


Conversations in Hell

by torigates



Category: Prison Break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being taken away from LJ, Sara encounters the very last person she expects (and wants) to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations in Hell

They drag her out of the room, and the last thing she sees are LJ’s terrified eyes, so much like his uncle’s, staring back at her.

“Sara!” He screams.

She tries to reassure him with a look, but she feels just as scared, if not more so. She knows exactly where they’re taking her and what they plan to do with her. “Be brave, LJ,” she says and hopes her voice doesn’t shake too much. “Everything will be okay.”

That’s the last thing she remembers before someone puts a bag over her head and knocks her unconscious.

//

The next thing she’s aware of is someone pulling the bag off her head and shoving her into—well, it can only be described as a cell.

She stumbles and falls to her knees, briefly contemplates getting up, but thinks better of it.

She thinks there might be another person in here (wherever here is) with her, but she passes out before she can make out who it is.

//

 

Sara, wake up,” the voice drifted over her as if from a great distance. “Sara, you need to wake up. I think you might have a concussion.”

When she opened here eyes, Sara had no idea where she was, and for a second she even forgot _when_ she was. “Lance?” She asked groggily.

As she tried to sit up, a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her. “Woah,” the man said. “Take it easy there, tiger.”

That voice. That smirk. Suddenly she was wide awake. “Are you shitting me?” She asked him incredulously.

Paul Kellerman stared back at here. “In the flesh,” he said.

And suddenly, everything was really, really funny.

Paul stared at her as she began to laugh hysterically. “Are you… okay?” He asked hesitantly.

“Am I _okay_?” She echoed in between fits of laughter. “No I am not _okay_ , Paul. I am in what appears to be a dungeon with a man who tried to _drown_ me, and who I then tried to strangle with the string of a goddamned _hoodie_!” She started out laughing, but by the end of she was yelling and she could feel that she was about to start hyperventilating. “Does that sound _okay_ to you, Paul? I need to sit down.”

“You’re already sitting down,” he pointed out.

“You’re not helping,” she glared back at him.

“Look on the bright side,” he told her.

“Right,” she said. “Do you want me to strangle you again?” She asked sarcastically. “Because I still have one shoe left.”

He looked down and saw that she was only wearing one shoe (with a shoelace, he noted). The other foot had only a sock.

“That’s right,” she continued. “I lost a shoe in an attempted rescue mission that led to me being brought here with _you_. So tell me; what could possibly be the bright side in all this?”

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” He said simply. “I could have been shot in the back of some van, you could have been… I don’t know, decapitated or something equally horrifying.”

She snorted. “Decapitated. Right, like that’s likely.”

“Clearly you have no idea who we’re dealing with, sweetheart,” he said with a sneer.

“I’m ignoring you,” she said, and promptly turned her back on him.

//

“So how’d you lose your shoe?” He asked after awhile.

She glared at him. “What part of ‘I’m ignoring you’ didn’t you understand?”

He only shrugged.

Sara fidgeted. His question hung in the air between them. It wasn’t as if she owed him anything, but who knew how long they were going to be there? “Lincoln tried to rescue us,” she said eventually.

“Us?” He asked.

“LJ and me.”

“Hrm,” was all he said.

She stared at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

He looked at her. “I was just thinking that I’m glad they sent you and not LJ.”

“And why’s that?” She asked.

“I killed his mother,” he answered. “That might make things awkward, don’t you think?”

She stared at him in horror. It was hard to believe that this was what her life had come to.

“You’re thinking about strangling me again, aren’t you?” She didn’t say anything. “Well don’t bother,” he continued. “We’re already dead.”

“I always imagined hell with more fire.”

“Very funny,” he replied. “I don’t mean actually dead, you idiot. We’re here because this is where the Company sends people they want out of the way, but don’t want to kill. No one knows we’re here. No one knows we’re alive.”

She couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean?” She asked, “I’m a hostage.”

“You _were_ a hostage,” he corrected. “Now you’re dead.”

It couldn’t be, could it? They were using her and LJ to convince Michael to do what they wanted, surely they wouldn’t tell him and Lincoln that she was dead; they wouldn’t get what they wanted from Michael.

No. They still had LJ. She knew Michael would do anything for his family, would sacrifice anything. If he thought she was dead he would be willing to sacrifice more than usual.

No one knew where she was. No one was coming for her. She was alone. With Paul Kellerman. “What are they going to do with us?” She finally asked.

“I have no idea,” he replied. “Frankly, I’m surprised I’m not dead. I know too much to ever be let go, and I’ve said too much to ever be allowed back in. Not that I would want to,” he added when she glared at him.

“What about me?”

“They’re probably planning on using you against Scofield and Burrows if things don’t go according to plan,” he told her.

“But you just said I was dead!”

“Crazier things have happened than someone returning from the dead,” he told her straight faced.

//

After that they didn’t talk much. Sara was tired and she dozed on and off. Eventually she realised she was starving.

“What happens now?” She asked.

“Nothing. We wait.”

She almost pouted before she remembered where she was and who was with her. “Do they feed us?”

He shrugged.

//

Time passed. There was nothing to do but wait.

//

“It helps,” she told him.

He stared at her but didn’t reply.

“Knowing you’re sorry,” she clarified. “I don’t forgive you, but it helps.”

“It will never be okay,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “I don’t think it will.”

He looked relieved, like she just confirmed something he already knew. “What about Scofield?”

She looked at him sharply. “What about him?”

“Do you forgive him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“He’s hurt just as many people as I have,” he informed here with a sneer.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Actually,” he said, “I do. I probably know more about it than you.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You think just because he did what he did for his family that makes it okay? People are still dead.”

“He didn’t _kill_ any of them,” she said viciously.

“His hands are just as dirty as mine, you’re deluding yourself if you think otherwise.” He paused, “And if I’m right he’ll be adding your name to the list right about now.”

She stared at Kellerman in horror.

_‘It was me! I did it, it was me!’_

She thought about Michael saying, ‘Now it’s time to return the favour,’ and asking her to wait for him, his face as Lincoln was being strapped to the electric chair.

She thought about the weight and heat of the iron in her hands, Paul gasping for breath as she tried to strangle him, and the recoil of the gun after she pulled the trigger.

There was a line somewhere. A line between right and wrong, but somehow things had gotten a little blurry.

“All of us have to live with the consequences of our actions, Paul.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that.

//

“My foot is cold,” she said after a while. He looked at her like she was crazy. “What?” She asked.

“You’re seriously complaining about your feet being cold?” He asked.

“Well they are,” she muttered.

Before Paul could reply, the door opened and the room flooded with light. Sara was momentarily blinded before her eyes could adjust to the change. Then she took the opportunity to look around.

The cell they were in made Fox River look like a five star hotel; there was a toilet, but it looked ancient, and… that was about it.

She heard the sound of something sliding across the floor and looked over in time to see two plates before the door slammed shut and they were plunged into darkness once more.

“I guess that answers your food question,” Paul said.

//

“Why do you think they put us in here together?” She asked.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” he said.

“I don’t,” she replied. He continued to stare at here. “But there’s no one else here,” she finished lamely.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “Probably because they know you hate me.”

Sara was about to say, ‘I don’t hate you,’ but then she remembered who she was talking to. She was quiet for a moment before she said, “I have more important things to worry about now.”

“I guess that’s something,” he said. “But that still doesn’t make this experience pleasant for you.”

She laughed. “Paul, if you think you’re even in the top _fifty_ things that are making this experience ‘unpleasant’ for me, then you are more full of yourself than even I would have thought.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Maybe they hoped you would kill me.”

“Well. That’s not happening.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” He asked.

“No.”

//

“Paul,” Sara said, “I have to get out of here.”

“Join the club.”

“No. You don’t understand. I’ve been the victim for too long; I won’t let them use me again. Not against Michael.”

“No one chooses to be a victim, Sara,” Paul told her. “Not with the Company. They choose you, and then they never let you go, not until they’ve taken every last bit of dignity out of you. And maybe not even then.”

“Well, don’t you think it’s time someone did something about that?” She asked.

“What do you expect me to do?” He asked her.

“I don’t know! You want to make up for the things you’ve done? It starts here.”

“I thought you said it will never be ok,” he replied.

“It won’t, Paul, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

He looked at her for a long time. “You’re a hell of a woman,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, “That we’re getting out of here.

She grinned.  



End file.
